Sam Winchester Tastes Delicious!
by TammiTam
Summary: Demon’s I get … People are crazy. And why do they always set their sights on Sam? And what would one of mine be without roughing Sam up a bit? Don't worry, Big Brother Dean is there, as always.


Demon's I get … People are crazy. And why do they always set their sights on Sam?

This is a Secret Sam-ta fic exchange over at CWESS – check us out from the link in my profile. Dedicated to the wonderful Fandrea (my art creating bud!) who I drew with these prompts. We only had to do one, but I tried to combine the two. Set sometime early Season Two.

_1. Good old fashioned H/C fic. Sam gets hurt on hunt and Dean takes care of him, set any time during the show. ___

_2. This is going to be weird. But here goes nothing. A Halloween casefic. With hurt Sam. Set any time during the show. ___

_3. This is the art prompt. I have a special affection for S2 episode House of the Holy. I would love a banner for it. _(I did this too, but to see it you'll just have to visit the site!)

And you know I ate this one up, since I love me some Limp!Sam and Overprotective!Dean – they run amuck in my stories! Unfortunately, I don't own them; I only torture them from time to time!

Beta'd by the wonderfully talented TraSan (Check out her awesome stuff!), though I've played a little since she gave me her tremendous help, so all mistakes remain my own. And a special thanks to BlueEyedDemonLiz (check out her stuff too, she's great!) for putting all this together!

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"_You know how I feel about Halloween…"_

The words rumbled through the fog that was Sam's head with little clarity in a brain that just didn't want to cooperate. No Stanford education or years of John Winchester's training was forcing his rattled brain into action.

Guess that's what happens when you play in a graveyard with headstones.

To be fair, they hadn't been playing … they'd been hunting what they thought at first were vampires, then later ghouls … but honestly, his brain just wasn't willing to string together enough coherency to put two and two together and come up with four.

Sam kept getting 3.14 or some shit like that.

Either way, his head felt like some drunk ran it over … twice. But that isn't what felt so … _off_. It was the cold. The freaking cold that settled so damn deep his bones felt chilled enough to cause worry.

No one should be this damn cold … and still be alive.

Sam, however, knew he wasn't lucky enough to be dead.

"D….."

The one syllable was usually enough to cause a squeeze to his arm, or a comforting word from his brother, but this time, all that followed was a chilling chuckle; one that had previously uncooperative eyes trying to open, and despite the dim surroundings, squint to what little light the small room held.

"I'm afraid you've taken his place. Silly boy coming to his rescue like that. I'm afraid it'll be the last mistake you ever make…"

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To say that Dean Winchester was pissed was an understatement. As tasered muscles began to once again cooperate enough for him to get his twitching ass off the cold ground, pissed was so far in the past it was but a distant memory of much better times.

Dean was in _someone's gotta die _mode, and had Sam been there, he might have been a little afraid. But the fact that Sam wasn't there was the very reason for Dean's foul mood.

That and the fact that whoever took Sam had been after Dean.

Had tasered him in fact, but his kid brother, in true Winchester fashion, had seen his fallen brother and saw red. Dean could barely lift his head when Sam had charged, could barely work his lips in a groan as the human (because ghouls and vampires just did _not _use tasers!) had turned the immobilizing weapon on his brother, an act that had Sam falling into the closest headstone. A glance between them and a smirk came Dean's way with, "This is your lucky day." Before Sam was grabbed and dragged to hell only knew where.

That was 20 minutes ago, and Dean didn't feel so damn lucky as he finally managed to sit up, catch his breath, then stand on shaky legs. His muscles still felt weak, uncooperative, but none of that mattered … all that mattered was some sick bastard had Sam. And finding Sam drained of blood by some psychotic serial killer was so not part of the game plan.

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Under normal circumstances, Sam might have taken note of hair color (reddish brown) or eye color (dark brown) or other distinguishing marks that set this man (insane killer anyone?) apart from other men. Something to go on, something that marked his victims … but given that Sam was about to become one of those victims, well, his head just wasn't working with all synapses firing on all cylinders .

What he did know, however, was the man was armed … with a knife – one that would have impressed even Dean. Well, had Sam not been tied to a table while half dressed (because somewhere in all of this, he'd been stripped of his coat and shirt) in what was probably the caretakers shop; his geekboy brain, while addled, was still assessing what he could while trying to ignore the sing of metal against stone in what could only be his captor sharpening the already lethal blade.

"You boy … are going to taste so good…"

That snapped Sam's attention back from his plots of escaping to the man sharpening an already fine-tuned weapon. He could just keep on doing it for an eternity as far as Sam was concerned!

"W-what?" He tried not to show fear, but that … was just all kinds of wrong! About as wrong as a certain redneck family that thought Sam would make a fine trophy. But this guy, he took away the fighting chance, while slim, that even those sick Benders had given.

"You're … a cannibal?"

And just why did he always seem to attract the crazed, flesh eating humans?

But any thoughts of the Benders were erased with the chuckle as the man turned to fully face his prey, that deadly blade held and poised as though he were holding a pencil.

"No, dear boy … I'm a vampire…"

Despite the throb in his head, dark brows drew together as things nearly audibly clicked into place in his head. Victims drained of blood … the case resembling both vampire and ghoul. And as Sam stared at the man who thought he was a vampire one thought came to mind.

He was so screwed.

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Following a dragged Sam through the an early New Hampshire snow wasn't as easy as it should have been, after all, Sam wasn't twelve anymore, add to the fact that he'd been dead weight and he left a nice impression in the snow led to an easy trail to follow. But Dean's muscles were protesting any and all movements, and despite the urgency his heart felt, his body just wasn't cooperating as well as it should have been.

Regardless, Dean was a Winchester, and Winchester's sucked it up and moved forward, no matter how shitty they felt – which was why he was slip-sliding through the crusty snow after a trail that could only have been his Sasquatch of a brother.

One thing was for sure, when he found Sam, he was so giving him a piece of his mind for stepping in the way like that. Dean was the big brother; it was _his _job to take one for the team, it was _his _job to protect his little brother. Though, he had to hand it to the kid, he'd certainly dove into the fray in true Winchester fashion.

Their father would have been proud.

John Winchester's last words came to mind, and Dean growled, shoving away all thoughts of the man who abandoned them to fight alone, and pushed onward through the grove of trees only to pause as the small building came into view. Catching his breath was not an option, but checking his weapon was – no sense in rushing in half cocked (or in this case, unarmed!) and getting them both killed. It was as he was checking his gun that a scream pierced the air – a scream that could only be one person.

"Sam…."

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Sam's fuzzy brain finally caught up to the urgency of the situation with the creepiness of the man's smile, though he didn't wait for tall, dark, and sinister to get close before he was tugging at the ties that bound him to the table. And when the first jerk of his right arm proved futile, Sam began to struggle against the ropes because Dean was right … people were nuts!

"That won't help …"

"It certainly won't hurt!"

Just a pursed-lipped look from his captor before the knife was lowered to his flesh.

"The more you struggle, the more it will hurt…"

"I'll take my chan……………"

The next sound from Sam was a muted yell – because even now John Winchester taunted in his head about training and discipline.

"You don't want to do this…" Panted now, through clenched teeth, as if that would stifle the pain; and despite the darkness of the room, despite the throbbing he'd all but forgotten in his head, Sam would never forget the look on the man's face.

"Oh … I think I do…"

His head dipped to the blood that Sam knew was pooling from the cut he'd inflicted, and while Sam knew what was coming, he never once expected the bite.

"Aarrrghhh!!"

His own heart thrummed loudly in his chest, the wind howled in the distance; but nothing diminished the slurping sound that was the man – the fully human man – latched onto his arm, suckling his blood as if it were some tasty morsel.

"Uuggh God … stop…"

The dark head before him lifted, the sneer that curled tainted with his own blood, and Sam had to close his eyes and swallow to keep the greasy contents of the last diner in his stomach. The room swam and swayed, and when he opened his eyes, a bloodied mouth was moving, but for the life of him, Sam couldn't make out the words.

At least until the knife swiped the man's own flesh, and a dripping forearm came at his own mouth.

"Nuuu…"

A hand jerked his hair, tugging his head down with a thump on his already damaged noggin, and as light danced behind his eyes, the taste of copper touched his lips.

"Nooo…"

The sound was gurgled, contaminated with the blood that threatened to pool down his throat, but a sputter had it speckling his face, the man's face – and had Sam coughing on it as the hand clenching his hair jerked his head back; the wince was all his captor needed to force a bleeding arm to parted lips. Sam coughed, choking on the blood that he felt trickling down his throat.

And the room swam once more. The smell of blood replaced with leather, the taste of copper exchanged for the Winchester standby of _ba-sketios_, and the sound of him choking on blood drowned out by the purr of an engine as it ate up miles on the highway.

"_Hey … get your filthy hands off my brother…"_

His arm dripped blood that coated his skin and trickled to the floor, his flesh prickling with goosebumps in the cold – but all Sam felt was the warmth of a car's heater.

"_He's my prize now!" _

"_He's not a prize … he's __**my**__ brother!"_

Distant shouts faded into the blackness that claimed him, the world swimming away to a blurry road that drifted on for miles within the sanctity of a car that had always been home.

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"_Easy, Sammy…"_

The easy, familiar drone rumbled through a brain that just didn't want to cooperate – didn't even want to face the light he knew was there if he just opened his eyes.

"_I got you…"_

The memorable creak was nearly deafening, yet so welcome as warm hands tugged what he thought were his arms. Had to be his arms. They were his arms … weren't they?

"_Up and at 'em…"_

A tug and coltish legs were pulled upward, though yielding under the weight he'd put on this past year. Strong arms stopped his decent, and the smell of leather filled his nostrils as his face pressed to something cool … yet so warm.

"_C'mon … just a few more steps…"_

A jingle and another creak and he was being pulled more than walking before a press had him sinking into something soft.

Not hard … not like……

A gasp and his eyes shot open, the wild-eyed look of pure fear. But green eyes came into view. Green, not dark brown. The eyes of his childhood – the ones that were always there no matter what.

"Dean…?"

"In the flesh!"

"Wha…?

"I gotta tell ya, Sammy, you have a knack for getting taken by the creepiest freaks ever! I almost didn't come for you this time!"

A smile crept on Sam's lips even as he felt the bite of alcohol hit his cut flesh.

"Right…."

Darkness tickled the edges of awareness, and the deep rumble of Dean's voice soothed him like the hum of an engine had as a child.

"_Vampire … get's funnier every time I hear it."_

Back when Sam still believed in Santa Clause – back before monsters invaded his world. Back when his brother was a superhero who could fix everything.

Funny how some things never change.

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Thanks all! I know it's been awhile, and I am no doubt rusty, but reviews are love ~ any and all are greatly appreciated!


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